UST
by Sain's old ff account
Summary: Secret Santa Fill: Prompt was France is fed up with the unresolved sexual tension; he gives a humorously awkward talk to one of them.


Written For Saramon on USxUK LJ Coomunity for secret Santa exchange.

TITLE: UST

AUTHOR: Saingirl101

RECIPIENT: saramon

GENRE: Romance/Humor

RATING: Pg-15

WARNINGS: Its got France being perverted a slight dash of lemon, just a grating though, nothing really happens, there is some swearing, but that's it.

SUMMARY: Prompt was France is fed up with the unresolved sexual tension; he gives a humorously awkward talk to one of them. Story starts out 1st person then switches to 3rd person limited and then omniscient.

**UST**

France watched the two English speaking idiots with an annoyed expression on his face. Amerique had made rude comment about dear Angleterre's disgusting slop of a food he called scones. The two then proceeded to choke one another and ten minutes latter here he was watching them release copious amounts of sexual tension with no obvious source of release in sight. He just could not take it anymore he had to put a stop to this.

"If you two are done releasing sexual tension we are having a meeting here!"

They both stopped and turned to him with Angleterre saying in response.

"That's odd; France actually made a rational point."

France nearly slipped into a smirk, while he knew that England had only been referring to the meeting…well. It had almost made it sound like he was commenting that they both were releasing sexual tension, which they were.

Of course then the two idiots went back to fighting each other just like he couldn't stop molest-appreciating! Just as he couldn't stop appreciating the attractive charms of others, he didn't molest others it was all consensual.

Well enough was enough, if they weren't going to get together after about a hundred years of releasing an aura that says "I want you!" then he would take matters into his own hands.

* * *

America was relieved when he realized the meeting was ending, after all a hero such as, himself had other places to be and other things to do. He couldn't always be trying to distract England from being sad by making funny comments about his rancid food to try and keep that weary glance of his face…right?

Well, he was about to race out the door when France stuck his French face in his own with a mischievous smile, oh god this could not end well!

"Amérique, please spare a moment here with moi!"

America ended up by-stepping on the French bastard's foot causing him to swear lovingly in his own natural language before responding to the others statement. "Sure! I understand how someone as perverted as you could want to be in my awesomely heroic presence for more time than usually given, so just this once I'll give you some extra time with me."

France then turned back to him and actually had a serious expression on his face…oh fuck the world was doomed!

"Amérique it's about our mon ami Angleterre-" "Dude, can't you just call him England why do you always have to speak it all weird and un-American!"

France simply spazzed and comically got all up in his face again. "Will you please listen up, you American imbecile?"

America responded by simply shutting his mouth and giving France the most adorable big, blue-eyed puppy-dog look you ever did see, which then resulted in him caving once again and patting the amber waves of grain hair.

"Now please listen. I have noticed for quite some time you and….England, have been constantly been releasing signs to one another that say 'I want you' but neither of you two imbeciles have done anything about it!"

America blushed and shifted uncomfortable next to France while muttering. "It's not like I want to be that way. Ever since I've left him, despite being on the same level he has never once treated me like an adult worthy of his love. The only way I can get close to him and see him show a reaction that's not him depressed is by making fun of him."

France placed a hand on his shoulder then placed his head on America's neck with a perverted look on his face.

"Ah! My dear Amerique, why did you not simply say so? I will tell you how to charm over our dear Angleterre-"

"-ENGLAND!"

"Sorry, our dear England, with a colorful canvas of words expressing your deepest and most passionate love to him!"

America just stared blankly at France until one awkward minute had passed. "Yeah I don't really trust you to tell me how to talk to people considering your track-record of love affairs."

"Ah Amerique! How could you be so cruel? I am a nation well-versed in the arts of romantics!"

"Yeah somehow I just don't trust somebody who uses the excuse of molesting others by stating it was 'sex by surprise'!"

France could not retort that statement and another awkward minute passed with America silently gloating about how France was the real idiot.

"Look, just reveal how much you truly love England and he will understand. Believe it or not Amerique, Angleterre misses and loves you as much as you do him. Why else do you think despite critiquing your immaturity he would stay and look after you? Just like your teasing of him is your reason to find a way to stay by him, his is just as noticeable."

America stayed quite before beaming at France with his ultra American, Hollywood smile.

"Thanks France, I'll go talk with him right now." However as he began to walk out the door he stopped and looked over his shoulder with a smirk on his face. "You're still a pervert." Then he walked out whistling while France spazzed behind him, shooting out words that were probably curse words, but since they were in French nobody really cared.

* * *

England sat quietly reading a book in his plush hotel room chair with a delicate china cup filled with steaming hot Earl Grey. After the meeting he had wearily returned back to his accommodations, frustrated with how things were going. In reality, he had hoped America, the lousy git, would've gone with him afterwards to a nearby pub to get something to drink and relax. However, the bloody Yankee had chosen to stay behind with that wine bastard or a toad.

His hands shook a little in anger and he simply set the book down to look out the window.

Who was he kidding; even now despite joining together as allies in this horrific war nothing would break down the barrier between them. They were broken, irrevocably so.

In a way he knew that he may have been making matters worse by mothering the younger nation but it was the only way he knew how to stay by his side.

He flushed slightly as he remembered how handsome America had been the day he arrived in London flushed with youthful excitement in that ridiculous fighter pilot ensemble.

That has been five months ago but he could still remember that day. It may have been the first time he had really looked at America in long time and realized how masculine he really was. With his broad shoulders, beautiful, sky-blue blues and bright, sun-shine hair, that was when he realized his love for America had shifted.

But- it wouldn't be right to tell the other, after all, a love from someone like him? He was still Great Britain, had been and did subjugate other nations, destroy civilizations and form an empire of chains. But who was he, compared to the boundless land of the free?

Once again a cloud of angst drooped over his head and all too soon he found himself in front of his room's mini-bar hoping to drown out the on-coming depression.

Then as he was searching for a bottle opener he heard a sharp rap on his door.

"What in the-?" He walked over to the door and opened it without checking through the eyehole and then found himself face to face with a familiar bomber jacket.

"Can I come in, England?"

England stared flabbergasted at America his mouth parted slightly before he gruffly knitted his thick eyebrows together and grumbled, "Hurry up your wasting space in the doorway."

He turned around for just a moment to try and go find another teacup to pour America a cup when he felt two strong arms wrapped around him.

Startled the green-eyed nation began, "America what on-"

"It may not be the kind you want or need or even remotely feel for me England but, ever since the day I've met you I have always been in love with you."

England turned around in the American's arms with a look of wonder on his face.

"America."

America simply pulled the island nation closer to his taller body in response.

"I love everything about you England, your smile, your stories, the way you laugh and cry-" He caressed a hand over his thick eyebrows and over his lips. "Your eyes, your mouth and the way you talk and act." He brought his head down to the same level as England's and looked him straight in the eyes. "But if I had stayed with you that time, you never would have taken this love seriously. I love everything about you England." America's hand wandered down and lightly palmed England's vital regions.

"Now I want to love you in ways that nobody else can." He brushed their lips together and kissed the other. It may have been awkward, sloppy and even inexperienced but for England in that one moment it was the best damn kiss he had ever experienced.

After letting those plump lips rest against his own for a little while longer, England pulled away and whispered hotly against the American's neck. "I love you two America."

He watched as America's eyes lit up happily and murmured just before their lips connected one again. "Touch me."

And then the two fell into a passionate embrace as the blue eyed nation led the green eyed one onto the bed.

* * *

30 minutes later…

France whistled as he walked down the hallway, pleased that the American had left in such a way that he was sure his advice had been used. As he approached England's hotel room to try and see if it had happened yet he heard a series of moans and groans.

Being the perv-CURIOUS nation he was he smirked and Flung the door opened shouting.

"Ah! My little love birds you decided to take big brother France's advice after all. Non?"

America and England sat frozen in their movements from shock. Both were half naked and looked very much like they had just about gotten to the good part.

Both then looked very much like they wanted to castrate the nation of la amour. England glared and then both he and America reached into their fallen articles of clothing for their guns.

"France, you have exactly 3 seconds to fuck off before you get a pistol up your arse."

That was the day that a Frenchman ran away faster than any Italian has ever done in fleeing an enemy. Of course he was socked in the face by America the next day and everything went back to its self-sustaining chaos.


End file.
